


Storms

by 7thPersona



Series: Legend of Zelda One Shots [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bathing, Bombs, Broken Bones, Bruises, Burns, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Fever, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, No babies don't cry, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Paranoia, Post-Calamity Ganon, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rain, References to Depression, Romance, Sad, Scars, Serious Injuries, Storms, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms, Trauma, Violence, at least the beginning, but it's okay zelda's gonna hold him, fear of storms, i'll add more tags when i'm not being stupid, it's really wholesome don't worry, lynels are butts, my bab is afraid of storms, my heart hurts, these kids are in so much pain, zelink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7thPersona/pseuds/7thPersona
Summary: She couldn’t tell if he was scared of them or comforted by them, but either way Zelda would hold him dearly during the thunderstorms that rattled their little home in Hateno.





	Storms

“You have water on your nose,” Zelda grinned teasingly, tapping the droplet on the tip of Link’s freckled nose. He scrunched his nose up in return, much to her amusement. 

“Well you have some in you hair,” he mumbled, with a poor imitation of a frown, leaning forward to ruffle her sunlight tresses. She giggled gleefully, briefly tugging her fingers through the damp mess of her hair.

Looking up through the trees, the princess took notice of the dark, foreboding clouds formulating in the gray sky, a pleasant curve, however, still on her pink lips. “I think it’s going to rain!” She sang, excitedly looking at her knight. 

He pursed his lips, glancing into the basket of items they had been gathering within the forest near Hateno Village. “We should probably head back.” He gently set his herbs and mushrooms into the basket as Zelda tossed her own collection in, before she launched up, rolling her pants up to avoid the mud. Link rose, and they began their short walk back to the cottage.

As the duo emerged from the dense trees, the rain began to flow faster, but Zelda enjoyed it just the same — nearly every sensation was wonderful after 100 years without feeling. She spun in wide circles, her arms flung out as she twirled, loose shirt billowing, her giggles tremendous with every drop of water that touched her tongue. Her laughs were contagious, as always, and Link couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him and the way a smile painted his own plump lips. 

He watched her, mesmerized, as she stopped for a moment, her chest heaving, but smile still a shining beacon. Quickly, the basket still safely hooked in the bend of his arm, he rushed forward, and clasped on to Zelda’s slender hand, tugging her forward. “Woah, Link!” She laughed, but began to run alongside him, fingers curling around his. 

They tumbled up and down the hills of Hateno, sloshing through the mud and squinting — not because of the rain or wind, but because of their brilliant grins and excited giggles — hand in hand. Their shirts dripped water, hair clumping together and plastering to their flushed faces, and the rain grew heavier until it was pouring, pelting on their skin. But they ran, and laughed, and squealed, ignoring the cold and dreary, to instead find the wonder and joy. And for a moment, they were just children, free and wild.

* * *

 

But then came the time where the merriment had to pause. They rushed through the homely, but empty, village, and weaved their way through blocky houses, until traversing the wooden bridge leading to  _ their  _ home. He hovered behind her, just slightly, to protect her from the rain that seemed to leave welts on chilled skin. A boom of thunder rolled across the gloomy sky, shaking the very earth Zelda and Link stepped upon. The latter cringed, urging his princess inside the safety of the dim cottage.

“Phew! It sure is chilly!” Zelda laughed, ringing her dripping hair. “Let’s get some candles lit — it’s so dark!” She enthusiastically searched amongst the cluttered surfaces, eventually finding a small piece of flint and a strip of metal. She strolled around the room, lighting the flambeaux on the small wooden dining table last.

“Right, I’ll get started on making dinner.” Link pulled out the Hylian Shrooms and Hyrulian Herb that the two had gathered earlier. As he rummaged through their assorted wares, hoping to find some meat, he felt two arms tenderly snaking around his midsection. “Hey, Zel.”

She giggled softly at the affectionate nickname, placing her head on his toned shoulder. “You’re shivering, you know,” the blonde teased, smiling devilishly, before pecking him on his neck.

“Yeah? Well so are you, princess.” He returned, rubbing her arms littered with goose bumps. “And I’m trying to cook us some dinner,  _ you know. _ ” He tried to turn around in order to retrieve the flint needed to start the fire, but Zelda held firmly in place.

“Exactly, we should warm up first!” She countered, before scampering off to the washroom tucked underneath the stairs . “I’ll draw a bath!” She sung, the flint still in her hand. Link shook his head knowingly, before trotting up the stairs to retrieve some sleepwear for both he and Zelda from the wardrobe.

With the changes of clothing firmly in hand, the hero made his way down the steps. Thunder clapped, and Link stumbled, nearly falling, before he tensed, quickly glancing behind his shoulders, cobalt blue eyes cold and calculating. After a moment, he rolled his shoulders, trying to brush off the feeling, sighing as he continued his descent. 

“Come on, slowpoke!” Zelda called, a smile in her voice, “Or I’ll get in without you!”

Rounding the corner into the washroom, Link grabbed two towels from the hooks secured onto the room’s door. Zelda was bending over the large basin (although, it still was fairly small, much tinier than the kitchen table) — Bolson called it a bathtub, claiming it was cast iron layered with porcelain — pouring in a bucket of water that had been heated over the room’s small stone furnace. “The water’s nice and warm,” the princess cooed, scooping some into her hand. 

“Right,” Link hummed, setting the towels and clean clothing onto a countertop. He began to strip from his soaking layers as Zelda discarded her own. 

Climbing into the tub, the princess sank into the water, sighing deeply as the warm water met her chilled skin. Tentatively, Link joined her, sitting to face her. His shivering body was delighted by the water, and he felt his muscles lose some tension. 

With a small chuckle,  Zelda nudged towards Link, grabbing his arms, rubbing up and down. “You’re going to get hypothermia.” She smiled cheekily, watching as her knight stuck his bottom lip out.

“Yeah, well you are too,” He pouted, eyebrows furrowed. In the distance, thunder bellowed angrily, rattling the small home. Subconsciously, Link grew rigid, muscled arms tight underneath Zelda’s gentle grasp. He closed his eyes, breathing a heavy sigh before his body relaxed. 

There was a moment where Zelda frowned, but it disappeared when mirth filled her voice again and she continued her ministrations, “You forget, silly, that I do not possess the unfortunate ability to grow sick.” She paused, grinning, “Hylia insures that her vessel stays healthy.”

Link gave a half-hearted smile in return. Zelda changed the topic, moving her hands to hover over Link’s abdomen, “These bruises are looking better,” She studied the angry, dark bruises maring his ribs, noting the yellow and green edges, “They’re healing — slowly, but surely.” 

Link hissed sharply when her wandering fingertips brushed the injuries, body curling in ever-so-slightly. “Sorry!” Zelda exclaimed, retreating. 

He shook his head —  _ “No, it’s alright.”  _ He bit his lip, eyes cast away.

“Sorry,” Zelda breathed again.

* * *

 

“Zelda!” 

Hands met her side and pushed her down,  _ hard _ . The impact against the ground  _ hurt _ . Her breath was knocked from her lungs, and she would’ve been left reeling had a hulking shadow not lurched over her — a White Lynel, leaping majestically and threateningly through the air and right over her body. She pressed herself flat to the ground as it passed overhead, tears of fright pricking at the corners of her eye. It’s own beedy red orbs glared at her from above, and she nearly felt paralyzed. But it continued, its charge unaltered.

_ A thud. A grunt. His body rolling on the ground. The Lynel circling around for another attack. _

**_“Link!”_ **

This was  _ her  _ fault — she should’ve been paying attention, shouldn’t have been so enthralled by the flowers and insects splayed across the ground. Why didn’t she hear it approaching? It’s hooves were thunderous against the ground, how could she have missed them? She restrained the Calamity single handedly for 100 years and sealed it away to its demise — why couldn’t she face a meagre Lynel?

It was  _ her  _ fault that Link was now curled up on the ground, the daunting and potent beast’s foot mere inches from colliding with his skull. 

She called his name again in desperation —  _ “Run!”  _ — and clambered to her feet, running to them on unsteady legs. Just moments, moments until the collision; she had to intervene, she  _ had to. _

“Stay back!” He cried, voice bellowing, but breaths laborious. She didn’t stop — why would she?

“Are you crazy?! Link!” She screamed, approaching. The Lynel didn’t grant her so much as a glance as it continued its assault. 

There was a sudden hue of blue that reflected on his face. His eyes were hardened with determination as his arms slowly rose to cover his head. There was a flash. 

The earth shook and the air trembled as the blast shot the Lynel back, the monster releasing a cry, before it could complete its deadly kick. 

“ **_You idiot!_ ** ” Zelda roared, eyes wide with shock and wet with tears.  _ He had detonated a bomb — right in front of himself.  _

There was no time for her to rush over to her knight, the Lynel recovering from the blast swiftly with a shake of its mane, as she unsheathed the sword on her waist. She could only hear the thud of his back hitting a tree trunk and his raspy cough of pain. 

Zelda wanted to scream “idiot” over and over again, but knew that she did not have the seconds to waste. She rushed over to the Lynel, steps silent and lithe, quickly bounding into the air and settling herself on its back. With heaving breaths, and adrenaline pumping through her veins, muscles tense, she drove the sword into the beast, giving it not a moment to spare and counter her. 

It disintegrated to a purple smoke, swirling and omniscient — after several moments, parts would appear in the monster’s stead. But Zelda paid no mind, to her victory or to her wobbling knees and trembling hands, as she surged towards Link.

She dropped to her knees by his limp body. “Link!” She called, dropping her blade and grasping his arms. She shook his body harshly, shrieking his name in fear, “Link?!"

* * *

 

“I swear, Link, you are such a dummy,” Zelda groaned, cleaning the bloodied dressings. She huffed, aggressively pushing the bandages back into the wooden water basin, “Biggest,” Dunk, “dummy,” dunk, “in all,” dunk, “of Hyrule.” 

“‘Orry,” He slurred, the words muffled and pained; talking pulled the still fresh burns on his face. From the loft floor, she looked up at him as he sat in the bed, leaned against pillows and swaddled in a blanket. His freckled skin was still swollen and a furious crimson, raised and bumpy. Zelda wondered how he could even stand blinking with how puffy the sensitive skin was. His lip was cracked to oblivion, every movement making it bleed — she hoped it wouldn’t take too long to heal.

Ringing the dripping bandages, Zelda sighed, “Oh, darling, please don’t apologize.” Gracefully, she stood, reaching the bed in a few long strides. Smoothing the material of her dress underneath her, she gingerly sat down, careful to not jostle the bed. “You were protecting me — it’s my fault for not paying attention.” 

“So,” She hummed, popping the cork off of an elixir, “I should be the one apologizing.” Zelda sloshed the metallic red liquid in the bottle, inspecting it briefly before making a satisfied noise. “Could you lay down for me?”

That really meant,  _ “Let me help you lay down.”  _ Cautiously, she set the vital elixir on the nightstand, before settling her hands on Link’s back and chest, easing him downwards. He hissed through clenched teeth, but made no further protest as he was lowered to a flat position. “Sorry, sorry!” Zelda whispered, sincerity and guilt dripping from her tone, “I know this really hurts. I’m sorry.”

She sat back, grabbing the glass from the table, and began to work, eyes ashamed. Zelda pushed the blankets back, revealing inflamed skin littered in burns and crimson bruises, still blooming across his chest and abdomen, dotted with pinpricks of blood. She held back a cringe; it had already been 4 days, and even after Pura and Symin reset and mended the broken ribs, generously offering a bottle of rare fairy tonic, the injuries hardly looked any less gruesome. His back was nearly in the same condition, and the burns covered his entire body. That Lynel kick was brutal.

As the princess began to delicately pour drops onto the burns marring his chest, rough bandages met her skin and a feather-soft clasp captured her wrist. 

“Don’ blame yoursel’, Zel’a,”  His voice was hoarse, breaths reduced to fragile wheezes. She gazed down at him, his ocean eyes half-lidded and glossy with fever, “S’not your faul’.”

“I—” Zelda faltered, gnawing at her bottom lip. She broke her sight from him, casting her attention to his wounds.  Her heart ached as she continued to apply the elixir to the burns painfully blighting his body — she would use half externally, and have him drink the rest. 

As she set to wrapping the injuries, Zelda had to finish her statement, for the guilt she felt, “I’ll try my best, Link.” She bit her tongue harshly stemming the urge to apologize again, “Thank… Thank you.” She did her best to ignore his wavering stare, only interrupted by sluggish blinks. 

No more words were spoken as Zelda swathed the remainder of his body in bandages, and he clenched the sheets in an iron grip. Too exhausted and delirious, Link remained silent as she pulled the covers to his chin, her emerald eyes glimmering with tears as she sensitively covered his forehead with a moist rag, as if he was fractured glass that would shatter. 

As if  _ she _ would be the one to shatter him.

* * *

 

“Zel?” He was leaning forward, face ( _healed—scarred, but healed_ ) mere inches from hers, fingertips ( _no longer tightly wound in bloodied bandages_ ) brushing her arms hesitantly, but affectionately. Waves of concern flooded his ocean orbs, and he reached up, tenderly swiping the tears from her own eyes — when had she begun to cry? “Please don’t blame yourself, love.”

“R-Right,” She stammered, as Link slid his calloused hands back to her arms, settling on her biceps. She heaved a sigh, before shaking her head and repeating, “Right.” A moment passed and she gave a shaky smile. 

As thunder ripped through the sky, the two suddenly grew aware of the slams of rain on the roof. The ground shook as lightning struck, the house rattling; the warm bath water around them rippled as the room seemed to tremble. 

“Gah—!” Fingertips ground harshly into Zelda’s arms, strong callused hands gripping like she was a lifeline. “Link!” Her forehead crinkled in confusion, shoulders tightening as she tried to wriggle free of his grasp, “What in the world?” 

After a moment of her struggling, when she had yet to receive an answer, she peered up at him, into vacant sapphire eyes. Her voice was gentle as she breathed, “Link?” There was a brief hesitation before she asked haltingly, “Are you with me?”

The fingers anchored to her arms released quickly as he took a shuddering gasp. Ocean eyes ignited momentarily, before focusing on her and sinking into a watery sorrow. His head fell, wet bangs hanging in front of his face. 

“Link?” Zelda scooted forward carefully, her right hand coming to brush his hidden cheek, “Are-Are you alright?” Butterflies tumbling in her stomach, she falteringly raised his head to her. His eyes were cast to the side, eyebrows pressed and mouth tightly shut, teeth clenched. Small tears danced in his vision. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” 

He gulped and heaved a deep, shaky breath, “I-I’m alright, nothing is wrong.” His voice was hushed, ashamed, “I j-just — would you let me wash your hair?”

She knew what he was doing, but also knew not to rush matters, “Of course.” Her tight smile was less than reassuring. 

As she made to turn around, she could feel two hands hovering over her, inching nearer, before they sharply flinched away. It was as if she were hot iron, flaming and burning — not to be made contact with. Or, perhaps more accurately, he were acting as the hot iron and she were ice, ready to crack and melt under the heat.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” Her voice came out more tense than she intended. Glancing down at the cherry dots on her arms, Zelda momentarily wondered if they would bruise, before ultimately deciding that it didn’t matter.

Gently, oh so gently, he lifted her hair, combing his fingers through it so carefully that she could hardly notice. It was thoroughly soaked with the water, and then a shampoo smelling of honey and hyrulian herb was brought through her silken strands. Link’s touch was feather light as he worked the soap into her hair, removing knots far more compassionately than she could ever herself. Not even a spec of water slipped down her forehead, not a sud, as he rinsed her sunlight locks, only dimmed by the water. As pleasant as it was, it was all too  _ odd.  _ His touches were barely there, but she could tell, could  _ feel _ just how strained his body was, how uneasy. 

He was tediously washing out her hair when everything froze. His hands, his breathing. Her own motion halted. All words caught in her throat, and she swallowed painfully against them. It wasn’t until she felt him shyly place his forehead against her sloping shoulder that her voice’s cage was unlocked. He choked out an, “I’m sorry.” 

She felt hot tears slide down her skin, and another “Zelda, I’m so—so sorry.” escaped from his quivering lips. 

She refrained from abruptly turning, and bit back the burning question of _ “What’s wrong?”  _ Instead, she settled for, “Love, what are you sorry for? There is nothing to apologize for.” 

The words were constricted as he hardly managed to stifle the suffocating sobs, “I hurt you.” 

That was it, she was turning around. Zelda pulled him to her, cradling his head against her neck, “I’m fine, Link. You didn’t mean anything—I’m not mad and there is no reason for you to be upset with yourself.” She emphasized every word with a tone of comfort, the reminder firm but sincere.

For several long minutes, the water growing cool with their prolonged soak, Zelda held him close, swaying just slightly. “It’s okay, it’s okay — I’m okay,” She reminded constantly, her voice just as divine as Hylia. 

The princess was fiddling with his hair, rubbing his scalp in soothing motions when she whispered, “How about I quickly wash your hair and then we lay down?” She felt him nod into her shoulder, before he backed away, his eyes puffy and red.

She brushed the stray tears from his face, leaning in for a tender kiss, “Cheer up, darling.”

In a moment, Link’s back was to Zelda as she brushed her fingers through his sugar and honey hair. Quickly shampooing the thick locks, she commented, “It’s getting so long.” When pulling a group of several strands flat, they reached past his shoulder blades — at least while wet. She got a noncommittal grunt in response.

Zelda pursed her lips and huffed out her nose. As she methodically rubbed the soap into the roots of his hair, she spoke quietly, “Link, what’s wrong?” Her breath hit his back, “Please.” She rinsed his hair with the water that had since grown frigid, continuing in that hushed voice, “You’ve been so tense since we’ve gotten home — like something is lurking over our shoulders. I-I can tell that you’re hurting…” Her easy pace took on a frantic edge, “If it’s your ribs, or the burns, let me know and I can make some—“

“That’s not it.”

She stopped, “Huh?”

“Um… that’s… that’s not it.” She knew that had she not been holding his hair, he would’ve been rubbing his neck sheepishly. He was most likely worrying his full bottom lip, too.

“Oh…” Her voice lurched as she broke off. She jogged her mind for elaboration, but turned up empty handed. Instead, she found herself fiddling nervously with his hair, under the pretense of rinsing it further.

Answering the question she couldn’t form herself, Link began hesitantly, tone quavering and insecure, “I, um... I don’t like storms very much… you know?” The thought tacked onto the end spoke at length,  _ “Please, don’t judge me.”  _

She was given hardly a second to gather her bearings (his statement puzzled her, if just slightly — how could someone who’s lived nearly half of the past year in  _ awful  _ weather be… scared of rain?) before small words filled the momentary silence, “It’s not like I’m… frightened of them, though.” She would never tell him how defense he sounded, “It’s just that, well, it’s just that…” 

She made a reassuring interruption, rubbing his shoulders endearingly, “Link, it’s alright. You can tell me.”

“Um,” He swallowed harshly and bit the inside of his cheek, “When it’s storming, everything, every noise, is covered up by the sound. It’s the perfect chance to strike — for you, and the enemies. If you’re not constantly on guard, tense with every strike of lightning and boom of thunder, there’s no doubt that you’ll be attacked from behind.”

That was a lie, Zelda knew. (Well, maybe not entirely.) She didn’t quite want to believe that it was too eloquent, or too long-winded, but it was not the root of the problem. He was not upset over some moblin skirmish in the rain. Sure, it could explain the flash of fear in his eyes, and his apprehensive body language. But everything else? No. “Link,” she pleaded, pressing herself against him, “Tell me the truth.” 

He shrunk in on himself, “It was like this  _ that  _ day. The day I  _ failed _ . I failed the king, the country, the people, my family.” The tears began again as his voice cracked, “I failed  _ you _ .” 

“Link, please, don’t say that,” Mist gathered in her eyes, clouding her vision, “It’s not true.” She pressed a delicate kiss to his skin, softly wrapping her arms around his aching midriff.  _ “It’s just as much my failure as yours.”  _

“It is! I should’ve been stronger, should’ve trained harder, should’ve been more prepared,” Words fell from his lips faster than she could stop them, “I needed to do my job — protect you  _ and  _ the kingdom. And I failed at both miserably.” His words sputterted to an end, defeated.

Sniffling, and locking her own tears away (this was a never-healing wound for both of them), she spoke thoughtfully, “Link, as much as we do anyway, we can’t blame ourselves for what happened — we did all that we could.” She nestled her face into his neck, “We’re here now, and even though it’s been a tragic, arduous fight, we’ve won.  _ We’re here. _ ” 

Zelda felt his body stiffen, and chest shakily rise with a shuddering breath. “I know,” He resigned mutedly, hands rising to grasp at her own. “Let’s— Can we go to bed?” 

She planted her lips on his chilled cheek (the water grew bitter still, stinging at her skin), “Of course, love.”

Zelda’s hair (particularly dry, excluding the tips) was quickly woven into a flowing braid, tied off with a silk ribbon, the regal color of the Champions. She gently towel-tried his own honey blonde hair, and it was left to cascade over his shoulders (while tangle-free and wonderfully clean, it remained an unruly mop). They clambered out of the washroom, leaving it a disaster for them to worry about in the morning, the princess clad in a long cotton nightgown and her knight adorned in a simple shirt and set of pants, both a forest green. 

They ascended the wobbling steps to the loft, hand in hand, feet shuffling across the icy floorboards. The earth seemed to be collapsing upon them as they climbed into the small (but perfectly sized) bed. Link twirled the string of his tunic’s neckline as Zelda pulled the thick covers over them. She huddled against him, his arm coming around her waist tenderly, and his supple lips met her forehead.

The peace was shattered with another crash of terrifying thunder. Zelda wanted to cry when he receded, closing himself off from her. She advanced, breath hitched, but paused when his shoulders began to tremble, small whimpers concealed by the pillow underneath him.  _ “Link…”  _

“Link, would you turn to me?” Her voice was meek as she asked, fearful of his reaction.  _ “Maybe he thought I was asleep already…”  _ As thunder rolled through the grim sky once again, he jolted to face her. Within a second of witnessing his teary face, she blurted, “Come here.” Even if he didn’t want it (which he clearly did), Zelda pulled him to her, cradling his head against her chest. The frozen metal of his earrings chilled her skin as he clutched at her pink sleepwear, curling up against her. She placed her head on top of his, rubbing soothing circles in his back. “I’m here.”

Their home rattled around them, the sky weeping upon the humble Hateno village. Each smack of rain on the window rang, and objects on the wall teetered. Puddles took over the rocky paths in the town, and the pond outside their cottage overflowed. The crops were uprooted and the land flooded. 

But Zelda didn’t care. She held the one she loved, whispering in his ear ( _ “You’re here. You are not to blame. You are safe. I am safe. You’ve done so much. I love you. So much.” _ ) as she embraced him. That’s all that mattered in that moment. 

And, secure and warm in his princess’s arms, Link finally felt his eyelids drift closed.

* * *

 

Zelda awoke to soft breathing and birds chirping. Her pleasant smile was as delicate as the rising sun as it’s rays shone through the dew covered window. Her emerald eyes peered down at Link’s soft face, blissfully relaxed in his well-earned slumber. His freckles and the flush of his cheeks and ears were all the more captivating in the soft glow of the morning light. 

Her heart swelled when he shifted, still pressed against her, clinging to her clothing.  _ “This,”  _ she thought,  _ “is wonderful.”  _  She wouldn’t have trade that moment for anything — not even an earlier defeat of the Calamity. Zelda was content, happy, to lay all day, admiring her sweet, caring knight. Forever, if that’s what it took, she would wait until those ocean eyes peered up at her to say, “I love you.” 

_ “I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll hold you until you’re no longer frightened. Until the rain no longer reminds you of our failures, but instead of how far we’ve come.” _

 

**“The storm of the last night has crowned this morning with golden peace.”**

**Author's Note:**

> End quote by poet, Rabindranath Tagore. 
> 
> Wowie! This was supposed to be a drabble, and look at it now – 13 pages long and just short of 4.5K words! This particular one-shot has been in the works for over 2 months, so I’ve become very emotionally attached. I hope you enjoyed this very fluffy and extremely angsty zelink story. These babs just deserve to be happy, I swear. Also! First time writing anything close to action!
> 
> Please let me know what y’all think of this – reviews are very appreciated;;;
> 
> All though this has definitely been a very enjoyable project (seriously, one of my favorites!), I’m super excited for the next Zelink one-shot – it’s completely planned out. It’s also a pre-calamity fic! Well, catch ya later, lovelies! 
> 
> Thank you for all of the support! <3


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